Emmeline and Hurlbert
by IndentityCrisis
Summary: Doesnt sound as perfect as the disney version, does it? Your right. A story where the stepsister is the good guy and marying the prince is the perfect plan to get rid of the bratty cinderella. ON HIATUS
1. prologue: Annie

**Prologue: Annie**

For most of my life I was shadowed, lost in the distressing personalities of my mother and sister.

Alexandria, or Dria as she was called. She was two years my senior but acted the opposite. Her immature and rather stupid demeanor spurred many fantastical tales and roomers from the gossips.( Gossips tend to turn on each other. Although my sister was the queen of their pack they still whispered about her behind her back. Just like she whispered about them.) She tended to speak everything, and do anything as soon as she thought of it.

Madelina. To this day I have no idea how I came to be this woman's daughter. There is absolutely no resemblance between us. Her hair was blond and in a bob. Mine was to my waist in a dark red braid. She was the exaggerating braggart, I the soft-spoken, overlooked observer ( I don't mean to brag or gain pity here, I'm just trying to give you a clear picture of our differences).

Always absorbed in their own affairs, they never noticed any of my adventure-seeking excursions. Sometimes I'd take my black stallion, snow-globe (You'll find that I love irony and paradoxes. If I get the chance to name something it will be the opposite of what the thing really is. I called the massive forest we lived near the 'dwindling wood' and our dusty attic chamber the 'royalty suit'.) galloping through the forest. Other times I'd go out into the city and listen to conversations. The simple clothes I wore drew no attention and I could listen to anyone without being noticed. Occasionally I'd steal something or other from a booth, just to prove to myself that I could.

By the time I was thirteen I knew the area of the city like the back of my hand and could identify every citizen of Drakenzberg by their voice.(That's saying a lot. Its not some dinky town we're talking about. Drakenzberg was a major trade city, we had hundreds of people.) Not only that, but I could stare someone straight in the eye and they wouldn't even realize that I was pocketing their wares.

My family was wealthy and I had been born in the city. My father had died in a small epidemic that had broken out when I was three. Instead of re-marrying, Madelinda had thought she could run the household and our business on her own. I had admired her for the act of feminism at the time, however as the years went by she proved to be hopeless at doing anything. We ended up hiring Maxell, a quiet, competent man to run our affairs. (Maxell, aside from being useful and quiet, was overwhelmingly passive-aggressive and controlling. He could get his way with a single glance of his small eyes in their wire-rimed glasses. Those glasses still make me cringe when I think about them.)

I attended diners and dances, weddings and funerals as well as christenings and coming of age parties to keep my family in good social status. Dria and Madelina came with me occasionally, but only if it suited them. Every now and then an ambitious mother would push their daughter to be my friend, hoping to get their greedy pig names in my families good books. After a week or so the girls all got bored of my quiet ways and went back to the world my sister loved so much. Their fake world of fashion, giggling and boys. Dria. Blond, popular as hell, wench-y, scanky, stupid, yet despite it all, obeyed. At times I envied her. Mostly I just hated her. She ridiculed me around her friends, pushed me around and handed me the blame for her idiot misdoings. This was my life, don't forget though. It was all I had ever known. I even found it occasionally enjoyable. All of my friends were commoners. My best mate (and future lover), Jack, was a servant in my manor. I used to steal him a horse and he came with me on most of my rides through the dwindling wood. When he could get off work he even came with me into the city, although he couldn't lie or steal like I could. I preferred to be alone the rest of the time. Most people took it as me being stuck-up, but I just liked to observe society, not be a part of it.

My entire life changed the summer of my fifteenth year.

My name is Annie and this is my story.


	2. Emma

Chapter 1

Emma Let's get this straight. Her name was Emma. It has never been Ella, I have no idea were that came from. In truth her name was Emmeline and her platinum blond bangs were always draped across one eye. Long, dark eyelashes and full lips. She was beautiful and she knew it. Her slender form was always slinked into clothes that hugged her elegant curves perfectly. She was not particularly wealthy, her father simply a small, well-organized merchant. 

Something about him appealed to my mother though, and they were married before the end of April.

The town loved Emma. Drias cronies immediately switched their loyalty to her. The role of Queen bee suited her though, and even the adults jumped to their feet to serve her.

On this particular day I had been called from my rooms and into the parlor. I usually tried to avoid the parlor, it being the gossip hot-spot, but my mother had actually sent Maxel up to fetch me so I figured I had better go.

"Hurry up, this is incredibly serious. Apparently Emma saw you stealing some horse out of the stables. " Maxel had never been able to keep a secret.

"Is that all she saw?" I was hoping that Jack could remain her secret. I had a funny idea that my family wouldn't approve of what we've been doing lately.

"There was some other detail but I can't remember. Oh will you please hurry up! I hate being in this musty room!" The old man had long since given up any kind of formality with her. He loved to complain about her dark room, decorated with reds and blacks with the bookshelves lining the walls. Her four-poster bed had been pushed to the side of the room and her large wooden trunk had been hidden in the corner. Nobody except Annie knew what was in the trunk. Mostly knives and lock-picks, codebooks and other things she often found useful.

I pulled on my most dainty-looking slippers and began to follow Maxel. On a quick impulse I grabbed up a red sash and tied it around my waist. Picking up my skirts I rushed down the stairs to catch up with our bookkeeper, who was already at the doors of the parlor.

"In with you now! Don't keep Emma waiting any longer! Its pure kindness she's even stayed this long, what with her busy schedule!"

"Pure selfishness, that's what it is. Let's see how kind she is once I get in there." I muttered under my breath as I was ushered into the room.

"THERE YOU ARE! FINALY! WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG? I SENT MAXEL UP TO GET YOU TEN MINUTES AGO!" There was an explosion from my mother and Emma, both of which sounded similar.

"I don't know, perhaps Maxel stopped at the kitchen on the way up. I came down as soon as you asked." It was fun turning them against each other.

Emmeline was perched on a sofa in a pink dress that squished up her assets so much that it was embarrassing to look at her. Her father sat in a beige armchair near the balcony door. My mother was standing in front of a chair, her skirts were rumpled at the back.

"Emma saw you stealing a horse from the stables with a servant boy." Emmas father, Creiler, was a frank man when he wanted to be. There would be no beating around the bush this time.

"A servant boy? Only one? Are you sure? The lowlys seem to flock around me every time I go riding. Only one you say? How strange. Which day was this?" My face was straight, though it was an on-the-spot lie.

Emma looked slightly annoyed.

"It was yesterday afternoon. And that does not explain the stolen horse, _Annie_." She smirked under all her face makeup.

"Yesterday afternoon….Hmmm…Let me think… yesterday was the spring fair. Most everyone was in the city. Oh wait…. yes, Peter came with me yesterday. " I thought hurriedly. It was true, the spring fair _had_ been yesterday. As for peter…well, he had moved away a year ago, so at least he was safe from the wrath of my family. "And I didn't steal the horse for him. He asked Jack the hostler before he took it." Well, Jack was a _training_ hostler, but still.

"I don't believe you." Emma spat devilishly.

No matter how little she cared for me, my mother was still not going to let her youngest daughter be talked down to.

"If she says that's what happened, then it's the truth. What reason would she have to lie to us? Annettera, please try to discourage the servants from riding with you. If you need a chaperone then, ask for one. But its not proper to go riding with boys so close to your own age." She sat down without smoothing out her skirts. Emma looked shocked and somewhat insulted, so she stormed out onto the terrace, where tree of her friends stood waiting.

As my mother and stepfather discussed the kings failing health, I slipped out unnoticed, discarding the sash in a flowerpot and grabbing an extra pair of riding boots from the closet near the side door.

Saddling snow-globe at the stables I decided that I would take the short ride to the Mystics house. I figured that I needed some advice.

Before I left though, I climbed into the haylofts to say hi to Jack. He grabbed me from behind, and I spun around into his embrace. We kissed for several moments, then I told him where I was going and why. Letting go of me, his face grew serious.

"Be careful." He whispered. "That lady has been known to cause trouble as well as cure it. Please don't get hurt." He grabbed my hand and his eyes were pleading. "Do you have to go?"

"Oh Jack! It's only an hour away! I'll be fine! Plus I have protection." I pulled up my sleeves and lifted up my skirt to reveal many hidden knives strapped under my clothing.

"Good. I'll see you after diner then. Goodbye." We embraced once more and I climbed down the ladder.


	3. the visit

**Chapter 2**

**Trividia**

I rode hard to get to the lake in half an hour. Stopping for lunch, I let Snow-globe graze as I dangled my bare feet into the water, sitting on a log. Why was Jack so worried? It was only a silly old lady. Well, a silly old lady with a powerful gift. I pondered what could go wrong as I re-packed my shoulder bag and called Snow back from his grazing. I re-mounted and rode at a more relaxed pace, arriving at the mystics clearing in 45 minutes. I looked around at the uncommonly calm place I was standing in. There was a small purple house that was entombed with ivy and surrounded by bushes. The grass was brown and dead circling the house yet green and healthy everywhere else

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Surprisingly, it wasn't me who had said that. The voice was coming from behind the hedge, near the front of the house.

"Pardon?" I said, somewhat freaked out. I mean, they had just taken the words right out of my mouth. Still, I walked closer to the bushes.

"Are you sure you want to come in, girlie? Your rusty hair and tanned skin mean nothing here. There is no crowd to blend into when it all gets to be too much. Your lies are transparent and those knives concealed under your dress will turn blunt if you unsheathe them here. I invite you in, but you must cross into my threshold of your own will, I will not force you. And you must never say that I did not warn you, girlie." An older lady stepped out from behind the shrub. I could tell that she was old, though her hair was night-black to her waist in many braids, her weathered yet pale face was not wrinkled, except for the laugh and worry-lines at the corners of her eyes and on the forehead. Her body also looked young, smooth and white. It was in the way that she carried herself, as though she had seen a thousand sorrows and a million loves. This woman had obviously experienced a lot of life.

I stood there just staring for long minutes before I realized that I was being rude. The mystic didn't seem the least bit perturbed. "Of course I'll come in, Grandmother. Will you not tell me your name? I am Annie, by the way." I tried my best to be polite, this woman held fates plan in her hands. Or wherever she kept it.

She seemed amused of my attempt at respect. "At ease, child. Call me whatever you want, I have many names. Most people find Tividia, or Trivy easy enough to remember." She winked at me and I smiled, gladly walking past the hedges towards the grinning woman.

She opened her door and walked in behind me, light spilled in from the windows before she closed the shutters. She squatted down and lay some kindling down in the fireplace to start a fire. I asked if I could help, but she said no. Placing a few bigger logs in the hearth, Trivy told me to stand back, saying five syllables in a language I had never heard before. Sparks flew from her hands to ignite the kindling and set the logs on fire. I whispered the words of power under my breath. "Salia fretaire." They sounded powerful and full of meaning. Looking down, I saw that blue sparks surrounded my hands, making them warm. I remembered that Trivys sparks had been orange.

"Yes you have it too, my dear. Not the most powerful Present I have ever seen, but it still has potential. That's interesting. We'll talk about all that later. First sit down here at the table and tell me what you came here for,"

The table was placed near the fireplace. The mystic took the seat closest to the hearth, leaving me with my back to the door.

"I'm stuck with my wealthy, upper-class family. They have an incredible amount of pride and scorn against anyone of lower class. Especially my stepsister, Emma. She is a total brat. If she knew that I was in love with the student-hostler, I don't even want to imagine what she'd do. Jack and I don't know what to do. We both love the city and have no desire to leave it, yet getting married is not even an option with our different families. His parents want him to marry Rebecca Brethers, the dairymaid. She's an oldest daughter and her dowry's almost as big as mine. To top it all off, my mother has this crazy idea that my sister and I can marry into royalty. ROYALY! Can you believe it? Anyway, that's why I'm here. For a suggestion on how to marry my beloved." I finished by looking at my hands. Then I thought better and stared strait into her eyes. She smiled.

"Is that the only reason you're here, girlie?" I really wished that shed stop calling me girlie. I was, in fact, almost 17 years old.

"Well, if you could help me find a way to get even with Emma too, that would be nice." I laughed. I felt totally at ease in the presence of the mystic. It was nice, I only ever felt so comfortable around commoners.

"I'll see if the flames have a creative answer, plus I want to see first-hand what you experience." Trivy got up and sat crossed-legged in front of the fire. Throwing orange sparks into the flames, turning them the same color.

The fire sprang up to act out scenes. Suddenly I could see Emma blaming me for loosing her favorite slippers, Jack and I riding together, my mother getting mad at me for wearing a dirt-streaked smock. Dria laughing at me with the gossips. Me, listening to conversations in the city, practicing knife-work with the training-master at dawn, before anyone woke up. Reading after dusk in the library until my candle burned down to the wick. Me, at the age of six, cutting my hair short like and boy and being thrashed by my nanny on my mothers orders. Running away for days at a time and coming home to find that only the servants had noticed I had left. Finally it showed me the look in Jacks eyes as he pleaded with me to be careful, that afternoon, before I had gone to see Trivy.

"Let's see what we can do, missy."

For the next hour we schemed, finally ending with a master plan that would make even the devil giggle with excitement.

I got up to leave, feeling as though I had known her all my life.

" Will you come back to see me? I need to help you train that Present of yours, plus I enjoy your company more than anyone who's come here in the last ten years." She said, stopping me before I got to the door.

"Of coarse! Are there any books I could take with me to study? I'd certainly like to learn more about those words of power. It's so exiting." I gave her an honest grin, I had not lied during the whole time I had been in that house. "By the way, I had fun, you should come to the city, there are a few people I know would really like you too."

Trivys' face got sad and withdrawn. "I do not go to the city anymore. It's too painful seeing all those greedy people, those dead souls, spirits are all but smothered in that place. But I understand your love for it. I once lived there too, that is why I live here, less than two hours ride from Drakenzburg. But leave now, missy, You don't want to worry your Jack too much." She handed me a book from her shelf. I nodded and tucked it into my shoulder bag before I slipped out the door.

Mounting Snow-globe, I noticed he had been unsaddled, groomed and re-saddled. Plus his tack had been polished and he acted well fed and rested. I rode him hard, and did in fact get home in time for dinner.


	4. Troy's hole

I read the book Trivy had given me three times, cover to cover before looking for something else like it in our library. When I found none, I went into the city and asked Manuguel, the book store keeper who knew me well.

"We don't sell those types of books here, lassie. But try at Troys hole, up on Chisel hill. He'll know where to find something you'll like."

"Thanks Mig, I'll try there. Do you have any old dictionaries, by the way?" I needed an older one that had lots of the words written in the power book.

"Oh I'm sure I have at least one in the back somewhere, let me go check." As he went to look for a dictionary, I looked around his shop to see if he had gotten any new books in the last week since I'd been there. Only a map book of the country and a couple of fantasies that I'd read years before.

"Here ye go, lassie. The oldest, thickest one ye'll find in Drakenzburg." He came out from the back carying a huge, leather-bound, dusty book.

"Oh that's perfect, Mig! How much d'you think?" I asked him, skipping over to look at the treasure. It was in perfect condition and the leather was hardly cracked. Still, you could tell it was old because nobody ever bound books in leather anymore.

"For you lassie, two chips and a carrot." He named the currency in Mileza. Chips were the third lowest coins, then bagers, then carrots. Before chips were cranks then pops and finally peacorns. But hardly anyone ever used a peacorn. They were worth a city house or three packhorses at least.

"Sounds good, here you go, Mig. Tutulu!" I paid my friend and left the shop, trotting up the hill to Troys hole, a shop I had only ever been in to twice.

Chisel hill was not a place you set up shop if you wanted to be noticed. You did not sell things that people would want to buy on a normal day at the market. Chisel hill kept the bonesetter and the taxidermist. It also kept the back alleys where drugs and other illegal substances were sold. Nobody decent lived up on chisel hill. It was a place you went when you absolutely had to and never more.

I knew Troys' from the others by the book symbol with the bone staked through its center, which was hanging outside his door. I opened it and stepped through to the damp, murky shop. There were many shelves containing thick, locked books. In one corner was a beat-up, wooden desk laden with paper and ink. It seemed that Troy was also a scribe.

"Oy? Troy or whatever? Manuguel sent me here to see if you'd have any books similar to the one in my hand." I held up Trivys book. Still, there was no reply. "I'm not poor, but if you don't think your well enough stoked as to cary it, then that's fine, I'll go somewhere else." I heard him behind me before he had time to pounce on me. Un-sheathing my wrist knife I slashed at his bare arms.

"Ay! Blimme how'd you do that? And you being a girl, too. Wow, all right, I'm humbled lass. Let me see that book'o'yours." He held out his hand. I smiled, and, shaking my head handed him the book. Most people wouldn't have trusted him after an attack like that, but I could tell that he was serious now.

"This?" He said doubtfully, looking at the book. "They sent you here to find something like this?"

"You don't have anything like it? Anything at all? Are you positive?" I put enough emotion into my voice to sound pleading, but not whiny.

"It's not the lack of books like this, lass, but the surplus of them. They come flooding in to me by the dozens. I have two entire shelves dedicated to this sort of thing. Here, I'll show you" He led me down the rows of shelves until he found the section he was looking for.

"Right then, take your pick. I'll be at the front copying a scroll." Troy gestured at two tall bookcases in the corner of his large shop.

I read each title and finally decided on four books that were the most appealing, I knew I would be coming back to this shop soon. Bringing them up to Troys desk, I voiced a question that had been troubling me since I had met the shopkeeper.

"Wasn't Troy an old man the last time I came in here?" I raised my eyebrows at the young man. He had untidy brown hair, a glint in his eye and a wry smile. I liked him.

"Prob'ly saw Troy the senior, my father. He died last year and I didn't mind this work too much s'long as I could keep up my nikin' and lyin', so I kept this place. It's a livin' and the books are right interestin'." He held up his hand and green sparks surrounded it. "Y'can learn a great deal from books, y'know? Pop always raised us to read but I was the only one t'preciate it." He smiled. "That's a good selection there, lass. I learned a lot from those four books." He smiled again. "That bein' the case, I had to raise the prices. Three cranks, three carrots and a bager." His eyes glinted. "Unless you wuz fibbin last time when you said you was rich."

"I wasn't fibbin, _laddy boy_." I teased. He wasn't that much older than I was. I paid him the full price plus a carrot to brag.

"You miss counted, lass. I said three carrots, not four. I don't accept charity. I honestly don't deserve it." He handed me back the coin.

"I can relate, Troy of Troys hole." I slipped the carrot back into my purse, feeling slightly amused. "I'll be seeing you, then. Be sure I'll be back for more books."

"I'll try to remember not to jump you next time then." He laughed, which brought one from me too.

"Cherio, Troy." I opened the door and walked back down Chisel hill, thinking. How could I be so attracted to anyone other than Jack? True, I had only ever been with Jack, but I didn't need anyone else to tell me my hearts desire did I? I stiffly embraced my lover when I passed the stables. He looked at me quizzically, and I made a hurried excuse about a long day. He let it go at that. Jack had never been able to detect any lies I told him, I used to it was sweet but it now seemed like it made him more like everyone else and less like the ideal he had seemed like yesterday.

I went back up to my room and immersed myself in the books to get away from troubling thoughts.


	5. Alliances and Attack

Chapter four:

I tiptoed over and tapped on Drias door.

"Alexi? Can I come in?" I used the name I used to call her when we were younger.

"Yea, sure. Its open." She was lying on her bed, skirts a mess and tear stains on her face.

"Are you OK? What happened?" I had forgiven her for the cruel way she had treated me when Emma had arrived on the scene. Emma made Alexandria's life a living nightmare. That's why I had come to her for assistance.

"Emma again?" I persisted when she said nothing.

" Its just…nothing. The boy I fancy does not even acknowledge my existence. He is smitten with Hella" We often called our stepsister Hella. Perhaps that's where the name Ella came from.

"Well, I have a plan to get rid of Emma for good. We can use her boy-grabbing enchantments to our advantage." I explained to her what Trivy and I had come up with. I did not mention the mystic to her though. But she wasn't smart enough to wonder about the little things.

"Oh certainly, I'll help. I think I can get mother on our side too. Would that help?" She was under my orders now, I agreed that our mother would be an advantage as long as Dria could acquire her quietly.

We agreed on the first move and then I went back to my room not an hour after I had left it.



The next day my mother caused a scene. It was brilliant. She accused Emma of stealing her orange slippers and when she was told to prove it, mother had framed her.

"I have no idea where those came from!" Emma screeched at the orange slippers. Her father was there too. He was frowning deeply.

"Emmeline," Creiler said gravely. "You'll have to be punished for this. If you wanted the slippers, you could have asked to borrow them. No, don't argue." He told her when she opened her mouth. "I see it fit to let Madelinda decide what will happen to you since it was she who was affected by your crime."

He glanced at my mother before strutting out of the room to his study.

"I see it fit for you to scrub the floors while I instruct my daughters in singing. If I see a single spot of dirt then you will have three other things to do after." She gave Emma her punishment.

Emma looked stricken and gasped like she couldn't believe what we were asking her Royal Highness to do.

"Fine, but I'll need a servant to help me carry the water." She smirked. I could tell she what she was up to.

"You can use Thomas, the assistant chef, he won't do any of the mopping for you. He is married and incredibly faithful. So don't even try to woe him into doing it for you. I want to see that dress in tatters when you're done!" My mother could also see Emmas plan.

As Emma started to cry, the three of us walked into the music room. I wondered what was going on, but I had to wait to ask as my mother was setting herself up at the piano. She started to play with her right hand and with her left she signaled for us to come closer.

"I've been mad at that little twit for over a year. Her father is absolutely too lenient with her. I think its time we taught her a lesson. Who does she think she is? Don't think I don't notice the way she talks down to you! We brought her into our wealth and she should be properly grateful, not insulting us behind our backs!" She paused to glare at the door. By that time we could hear the water sloshing in the bucket as Emma rinsed out the brush. Her sobs had finally quieted down.

"Here is my plan." Mother looked at each of us, one at a time. "It's nothing special really. Just sing as terribly as possible to disturb our little princess in her washing. Knowing Emma, it will make her revolutionarily jealous. We can do little things like this for awhile before your plan comes into action." She looked at me. "Its brilliant, by the way, my dear. These little torment sessions will only just keep us motivated. We must wait until the ball, as Dria told me, before anything permanent will happen. Am I right?" She raised one elegantly curved eyebrow. I was surprised. Mother had not shown any interest in our well fare or us for years now. This new protection in her must have an ulterior motive.

"Once she is out of the house, I will have Crey all to myself. Also we will have more money because we won't have to be buying her clothes anymore." Well, there was her ulterior motive. And if my plan were to work, we would most defiantly have more spending money.

Mother started playing 'Sing sweet nightingale' and the two of us started moaning the lyrics in monotone voices. We could hear Emma humming the tune as she scrubbed to the beat, but she was worse than we were, if that was possible. Choking on laughter, we finished the song and started on 'Love is free as a dove'. Emmeline dragged the bucket across the floor as mother cringed and muttered something about scratching wooden boards and needing to wax it next time. After half an hour I excused myself, slipping out of the room and draging my boots (covered in dried mud, by the way.) across the wet floor. I grinned as I saw the paw prints the cat had danced across Emmas sloppy mopping job. Her dress was indeed in tatters, getting repeatedly caught on the furniture and snagging on corners. I went to the kitchen and begged a packed lunch from Deirdre, the afternoon chef.

"Going riding, my lady?" The middle-aged woman smiled, putting a cheese and ham sandwich into a pack, along with several other things.

"Yes, towards Quadro Lake, I think." I lied. I liked Deirdre, but if she was asked, I didn't want anyone to know where I was going. Accepting the pack from the friendly woman, I skipped along to the stables.

"Hullo Marton, hey, Jack." I greeted the stable tenders. Jack touched the back of my hand and helped me saddle my horse. He smiled and I couldn't help returning it. I had fallen in love with him for a reason, even if I no longer felt as strongly about him. My smile dropped as I thought about my change of heart. How was I going to break it off with him?

I left my worries aside as I trotted out of the gate. Riding down the road, Snow was kicking up dirt. I steered her onto the side path, which had more grass covering the ground. I rode in the general direction of Trivys house, thinking to tell her of my progress and return her book. The grassy path took me near Chisel Hill. No, I swear I had not planned to see him, it was a complete accident. Troy was riding a gray chestnut mare as I rode up behind him.

"Hey. Fancy seeing you here, missy. Where are you headed? With that beautiful horsy and that pretty red braid tied down your back. A real warrior maiden, you look. Not often you find a girl like you, it isn't." He looked me up and down, noting my men's riding books and rough leather tack instead of delicate ladies sued. I also checked him out. He was wearing an un-died cotton shirt with black breaches. I knew for certain what was concealed in his baggy clothing, however, as I also wore an unusual choice in garments. My rough clover-green dress had scarlet trim to distract people from its unconventional looseness. We each wore leather belts, to which were secured (and they really were secure. Both being pick-pockets we knew how to keep our money safe.) purses.

"We have certain similarities, yes." I teased. "Where are you going, Troy?" I had been back to his shop one other time and we had gotten companionable enough to chat.

"I'm going where I'm going. And please stop calling me Troy, which was my fathers' name. I much prefer Trey." When I laughed, he added. "A slur, I know, but its what I'm used too."

"Sure. Well, I'm going this way too, so we might as well ride together." We had already gotten past the city limits and were riding towards the forest.

"Agreed, lady. Might I ask your name?" His face was honest, but I knew he was as good as I was as lying, so I couldn't be sure. Still, I told him the truth.

"Annie Sylvester, Mr. Trey-with-no-last-name." We flirted with each other until we got into the forest. Then we both became quiet. The forest was silent as the grave. With a single glance to our surroundings, we drew our sharpest blades from their concealing places under our clothing. With ease we shifted into defensive positions in our saddles. The leather creaked as we moved.

All of a sudden, six bandits jumped us. They swung at us from the trees over our heads. Stupid really, they were completely exposed to our steady knife slashes. We each cut down two. I had slashed one in the throat as well as giving him a deep gouge in his chest. For the second, I simply slashed his cheek and tossed him into an old oak tree. He had hit the trunk head on, as I had directed in my throw, knocking him out and causing a great bruise to form on his forehead. I didn't see what Trey had done to his two men, being busy watching the remaining two thieves run away.

Wordlessly we wiped the sweat from our brows and replaced our knives in their straps. Moving our horses closer together, we thoroughly scanned the trees for any other attacks. Seeing none, we continued down the road, not letting up our guard until the birds started singing again.

"You're incredibly fast with that knife, Annie. I'll never cross you again." He didn't smile, I could tell from his voice that he was serious, it was still even wavering a little from the adrenaline.

"I didn't see what you did, but it must have been better than what I did, you don't even have any blood on your clothes." Neither did, I, but his victims had not been bleeding when I had looked them over.

"Its just a trick I know, not many people let it pass, but those two were not the most skilled I had ever met." He looked at me, hisblue eyes penetrating my own hazel ones. "You are. I'd really enjoy practicing with you, if you ever get the time." He turned back towards the road.

"I'd love too, and I'm flattered. You will more than match me. Although I'd like to see how much the both of us could steal on a market day together." I grinned, thinking of all the disappointed rich men a day like that would turn out.

We talked about other things for forty-five minutes until we got to a fork in the road. Deciding when we'd meet next, he went right down path while I went left.

Feeling happy about the encounter, aside from the attack, I rode the last fifteen minutes to Trivys cottage.


	6. A mission and a broken heart

"Trivy!" I dismounted before Snow-Globe even stopped moving.

"I initiated our plan and I have your book!" Running to the gate and closing it so that Snow couldn't get out, I went to Trivys door and knocked. The door opened silently of its own accord, revealing the mystic sitting in front of the fire beside another person. It was an old lady, but she looked older than Trivy was, face wrinkled and body shriveled. Her skin seemed to glow yellow in the firelight. Neither of the women seemed to notice I was in the room.

Shivering despite the heat, I went inside and closed the door. Sitting at the table, I watched their backs. They breathed in unison, their chests moving in time to the chants they were saying.

"Cratrhia, griatrusa manthrolor gruatren chir." They whispered over and over. I don't know how long I sat there, observing them, but the sun got lower in the sky. When I judged it to be about three o'clock, the woman stirred. Coming out of her trance, Trividia smiled.

"Hello, my dear, wait a moment and then I'll introduce you to Grænaté." Trivy opened a window, letting a cool afternoon breeze enter the stuffy hut. Banking the fire, the new lady mumbled something to Trivy.

"No, you can trust her. She's got troubles of her own." Trivy replied, seating herself at the table. The other woman followed suit.

"So my dear," Trivy addressed me. "Have you initiated the primary stage of the plan?" I nodded, explaining how Mother and Dria understood basically what we were doing. I also described how fast the rumors I had spread about the affection Emma felt towards the prince, Hurlbert XII (a.k.a The Charmer) were spreading.

"How are you're preparations?" I asked, absentmindedly tracing a picture in the ashes on the tabletop.

"Everything has been coming along well, thank you. I'll expect that you read that book?" She indicated the volume in my hand.

"Yes, and I also went and bought several others. I find it all rather fascinating, and I found a friend who can do it too." I sighed, thinking of the journey. Where was he now? Probably picking up a book shipment or dropping off a completed scroll.

"Oh really? Hmmm…." Trivy smiled. "Anyone special?"

"Well," I murmured. "He certainly made me loose the spark with Jack. I'm utterly confused now."

"Does 'your friend' have a name?" She inquired, eyes sparkling.

"Yes, its Trey. He owns a bookstore in town." She drilled me with other questions, which I answered truthfully. Finally, she spoke to Grænaté. She introduced me to the old lady and explained most of my situation. She then told me that Grænaté had an aging disease and that without it she would look just over forty-seven. I stared in shock, the woman looked to be eighty, at least.

"How did you come about it?" I asked her, I had never heard of an aging disease in my life.

"I ate the purple fern from the garden of a hedge-witch in Norseland, were I used to live." She wheezed. "It smelled of the sweetest nectar, and my husband thought to steal some as a birthday present. Apparently, according to the hedge-witch, she used it to kill weeds. I ate it three days after my birthday, and have never been the same woman since. Now, if we don't find a cure soon, I shall die."

"Is there a cure?" I asked, eyes wide. It seemed terrible, to loose your youth and half of you're life-span so suddenly.

"Yes." She said, and seemed too tired to go on. Trivy continued for her.

"It is with the hedge-with who grew the plant. Grænaté moved away from Norseland years ago, and neither of us are strong enough for such a journey." The mystic smiled. "That's where you come in, sweet." She explained that she needed me too travel to Norseland and collect a second cutting of the purple fern from the hedge-witch Zoula. It had be acquired through Zoula's kindness, however, not theft.

"I will do it, kindly. But what about your husband, can he not travel for you?"

"My husband is the reason that I moved to Kria in the first place. He got our marriage terminated as soon as he realized what had happened to me. Almost immediately, he married another girl and had children. I could not bear to stay in the town after that, and rode as far as I could, east. When I hit Drakenzburg, I stopped. Will you please help me gain back the years I have lost to the purple fern, child? Please?" The amount of pleading in her aged voice almost brought me to tears.

"Of course, ma'am. Of course I will." Suddenly, an idea struck me. "Might I bring a companion? On my mission?" I ask, thinking to make it more enjoyable.

"Yes, my dear, certainly. Does it happen to be that Trey boy you mentioned before?" Trivy smiled and I nodded. As Grænaté thanked me profusely, I got ready to leave. Trivy handed me several other books to study and the address of the witch in Norseland.

"You make sure that you and your friend read these before you leave. They might help you against the Norse wildlife." She kissed me on the cheek and sent me on my way.

I rode slowly back to town, hoping to catch Trey and tell him about the mission, but was disappointed. Unsaddling Snow, I caught Jacks eye. We both made our way to the bench in under the rosebush in the garden.

"What is it, love?" He asked when I arrived.

"Jack, I…" My voice caught. I took a breath and tried again. "Jack I can't…" The look on his face made me stop once more. He was so unsuspecting. He didn't expect something this serious. I couldn't bear to break his heart.

"What is it, sweet? Did something happen?" His voice and touch forced my confession.

"Jack, I have to end this, us. We can't go on." I felt the tears coursing down my face. He went pale and his hands jerked off my shoulders.

"Are you joking?" He whispered, but the tears trying to force themselves from behind his eyes told her that he already knew the answer.My shoulders shook with sobs asI shookmy head.

"What did I do wrong? Is there someone else? Annie, I love you. What are you talking about?" His voice was horse with the strain of trying to hold back the tears.

"Nothing, its me. I love you, Jack, but not like that anymore. I did find someone else, I'm so sorry." I rested my head against his chest.

"But we had all those plans," He whispered, stroking my hair one last time. The tears were running freely now.

"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry. It's just…"

"I know Annie, I understand." Jack got up. "I should get back." He wiped his eyes on his tunic.

"Goodbye." I held his gaze.

"Goodbye, my warrior girl." He walked back towards the stables. Before he got out of earshot though, Jack turned around. "I hope we can still be friends." He pleaded.I nodded vigorously and ran violently back to my room.

I collapsed, sobbing, on my red-quilted bed. It was not easy letting go of such a tight, long-lived, heart-feltrelationship. Even though it had been me doing the ending.

* * *

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